You Can't Dodge the Killing Curse
by x Hemlock x
Summary: While playing in the attic, Sirius and Regulus break one of their mother's newest purchases and rush to hide the evidence before Walburga discovers their crime.


**You Can't Dodge the Killing Curse**

Many big houses lined Grimmauld Place, each imposing in its own right, although some were grander than others. The grandest, by far—as well as the most austere—sat between number eleven and number thirteen. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place loomed over the street, invisible to passersby. Had people been able to see it, they probably would have averted their gaze and crossed to the opposite side of the road, such was the dread that clung to the building's walls.

The harshness that imbued the house seeped into nearly every room, and only a rare few escaped it. One such safe haven was the attic: a dusty, dirty place that was too unimportant to be worth the house's owner's notice, which made it a favoured spot for the younger inhabitants to do as they pleased.

"You're dead," said Sirius Black, a little boy with black hair and victory in his eyes. He held a thin twig in his hand and triumphantly raised it above his head.

"I am not!" shouted Regulus Black, another little boy, practically the mirror image of the first, give or take a couple of centimetres.

Sirius dropped his hand to his side, thin lips pursing into a pout and eyebrows shifting into a stubborn frown. "I used the Killing Curse on you."

With all the confidence his five-year-old self could muster, Regulus said, "I dodged it."

"You can't dodge the Killing Curse, and even if you could"—Sirius quickly raised his pretend wand and pointed it at his brother's heart—"_Avada Kedavra_!"

It was not surprising in the least that a soon-to-be seven-year-old knew the incantation and wand movement for an Unforgivable Curse, not when he had been born into the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. The sudden shout did surprise Regulus, though, who stumbled backwards and knocked into a stack of old and empty canvases.

"That's cheating," he said as he righted himself, but Sirius's attention was no longer on him.

The elder boy's wide eyes watched with mounting trepidation as the fallen canvases created a domino-effect of destruction, pushing over a broken broom, which nudged a cracked crystal ball that rolled and rolled, getting closer and closer to the only object in this room with any value.

Sirius lunged for the old vase that Walburga Black had won in an auction some years ago, and which she kept in the attic for safe-keeping until her sons became less rowdy. She was unaware that the boys used this space to play their games—she had strictly forbidden that they set foot in it, and disobedience was not something she was accustomed to.

Sirius wasn't fast enough.

The vase hit the floor and cracked into several large pieces at Sirius's feet as the two boys stared with fear-filled eyes and gaping mouths.

"It was an accident," said Regulus, so softly that Sirius barely heard. "I didn't mean—"

Sirius turned and saw his brother's quivering lower lip and glistening eyes. He rushed to Regulus's side before the boy's loud sobs could bring anyone running and forced a smile. "It's okay, Reggie. Don't cry. I can fix this."

"How?"

That was the question.

But Sirius was a bright boy with a skill for thinking on his feet as well as getting in and out of trouble. "I have an idea. Help me pick up all of the broken pieces."

Regulus did as he was told, and together the two boys carted all of the broken pieces down the rickety old stairs and into Sirius's bedroom on the floor below.

Sirius kept an ear out for the familiar shuffle of the family's elderly house-elf as well as the swish of expensive robes and the static click of heels that always preceded his mother's appearance. Orion Black was away on business, which gave Sirius one less person to worry about. Regulus, on the other hand, kept his entire focus on the narrow steps beneath his feet, having tripped down them one too many times already.

With the shards of porcelain scattered over the thick carpet, Sirius rummaged under his bed for his box of treasures, within which were the countless gizmos and whatsits that he had collected over the years. Most were of Muggle origin, picked up off the street and secreted away while his parents' backs were turned. He reached into the box and fished out a tube, the label of which read: 'superglue' in large, bold letters.

"What's that?" asked Regulus as Sirius sat next to him on the floor.

"It's something Muggles use to stick things together." Sirius had discovered its purpose the hard way and had lost a layer of skin because of it. "I guess they use this because they can't do the Mending Charm like we can't."

Regulus screwed up his little nose. "We aren't like them. We have magic."

"Yeah?" A taunting smirk twisted Sirius's features. "Go ahead then. Show me all of that magic you've got."

Regulus screwed his nose up further and narrowed his eyes, but he said nothing, merely folding his arms over his chest and pouting. Sirius snorted and got to work, meticulously sticking one piece of porcelain to the next like a particularly tricky puzzle. The glare fell from Regulus's features as curiosity took over, and he avidly watched his brother work.

It took a while, but then Sirius was finally able to say, "There! Good as new."

That was an overstatement. Dark lines ran over the surface of the vase, and a piece was missing from the base, misplaced somewhere along the way. But so long as Walburga didn't take too close a look at it before the boys learned to cast the Mending Charm, they would get away with the incident, safe and unharmed.

Sirius turned to his brother with an impish twinkle in his eyes and a smug twist to his lips. "That's how you get away with murder."


End file.
